How To Measure Time
by Echo1317
Summary: He measures his life in summers. Snape/Lily one shot they're my new fav pairing


**A/N** This is my entry for gglover4ever101's Severus and Lily contest. It's 1,406 words long, without the author's note. I hope you like it!

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He measures his life in summers.

There is the first summer that he can recall, when he is five. His mum would clean and cook during the day, often taking a few moments to play with him and his toy knights and dragons, but never long enough for him. He was lonely most of the time, and that was the summer that seemed to last forever.

The second summer he measures is when he is ten, and he sees Lily Evans for the first time. He watched her with her sister at that park for weeks before he had the courage to talk to her. He would watch, and he would wait, and he would imagine what they might talk about if he ever got up the nerve to talk to her. Eventually, he did, and he still recalls it fondly as the best decision of his life. He still sees her smiling face, and the look of shock Petunia wore, when he finally stepped out of the bushes and spoke of magic. He remembered the way Lily glanced back a him after her sister commanded her to leave, with curiosity and longing. That was the summer that he knew he would see her again, and for a long time after that.

The third summer is the summer he is eleven, before he started Hogwarts. He and Lily spent almost every day together, speaking of hippogriffs, and Dementors, and he was truly happy in her company. He could tell now that he liked her, liked her in the way that she obviously did not like him. But she would still hang on his every word, like he knew everything, which in her eyes he did. He was the best friend she couldn't find in her sister, the best friend who she could tell anything, and he could tell her. There was a lot he didn't tell her, though. That was the summer he knew that there was so much else that he should have told her.

The fourth summer is when he is when he is thirteen, and he and Lily still spent most every day together, exploring the forest and joking and laughing with each other. He loved the way the sun made her hair look like fire, and the grass was put to shame by the color of her eyes. She honestly didn't care that he was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor, she still liked him just the way he was. She'd let him sleep on her floor some nights, when his parents would fight, and his father would hit him. Those were the both the worst nights and the best nights, he thought. He almost felt guilty for thinking of them as the best, too- but it meant he could see Lily more, and he somehow found himself happy to be with her. That was the summer he learned to feel safe.

The fifth summer is when they are fourteen, and they still spent day in and day out together, just the two of them, talking about this, that and everything. He fell in love with her that summer, and he never fell out. He never let himself. It was her, and only her that made his life worth living. And she said she loved him, too, but he could tell it wasn't in the way he loved her. Not a chance. It was just a crazy dream he had, them growing up, and getting married, and having kids. But that was the summer there were some nights, when they two would watch the sunset by the river and she would lean her head on his shoulder and he would put his arm around her, that he thought that maybe his ideas weren't quite so far fetched after all.

And then there's the sixth summer, when he's fifteen, when she didn't speak to him at all. He had apologized over and over, but she didn't and wouldn't listen. He saw Petunia one day on his way into town, and as she passed him, he could have sword he saw her smirk, as if to congratulate herself on being right, that Lily shouldn't have been around the likes of him. That was the summer he realized that Petunia had been right.

The seventh summer is the summer that he is seventeen, and he began to work for the Dark Lord more often than ever before. His education was over, leaving him free as a bird to do whatever He pleased. That was the first summer that he used the Unforgivables- and the first time that he killed. He didn't like it one bit; the satisfaction that Bellatrix had promised him never came, only unbelievable guilt and pain. Lily had been right, as she always was, but he was in too deep, and he knew that she wouldn't take him back regardless. That was the summer that he lost hope.

There was the eighth summer, the summer that he heard the Prophecy. He asked Dumbledore for her protection, and he gladly obliged, offering his protection as well. He tried to refuse, but the man was too good, and he soon found himself a double agent. That was the summer he found out how good it felt to be the good guy for once.

There was the ninth summer, after Lily died. He found himself back at their old spots. He could see them at the playground, swinging as he told her stories. He could see them in the forest, childishly laughing and chasing each other, and falling to the ground with laughter when one of them caught the other. He could see them on that river bank, for so many evenings, when he had thought that maybe they had a chance. Finally, he ended up on the front porch of her house, where he cried for the first time since he had heard of her death. Her house, where he had spent so many days, afternoons, and nights. Her house, the one place that he had felt safe outside of school. That was the summer that he realized that no where seemed as safe when she wasn't there.

And then, there was the last summer- the summer he died. He felt old and withered, older than his age, and he didn't like that. He had killed Dumbledore last year, and he didn't particularly like that either. He found solace, however, in his sleep, when Lily Evans haunted his dreams, beckoning his with her as she would run through the forest of their childhood, dodging in and out of trees, laughing and calling to him to follow her. As the Dark Lord's snake had attacked him, her fangs bared and her venom seeping into his blood, he could only think of Lily, and how close he was to her. The Dark Lord left him, and he closed his eyes for a single moment, and when he opened them again, he was looking into _her_ eyes, her eyes that he had spent so long trying to memorize. When he realized, though, that they were not her eyes after all, he was suddenly struck with the truth of what he had to do, and he spilled out his memories for Lily's son to find, so that Harry might know why he had done what he had, and who he had done them for. He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them once more, he was looking into her eyes again, but this time they really were hers. Lily threw her arms around him, and at once he felt at home, holding onto her tightly and vowing that this time he would never let go. That was the summer that he finally figured out how to be happy.

For so long, he would measure his life in minutes, hours, days. But there, in Lily's arms, he found that the minutes and hours and days didn't really matter much. No. That was the moment when he realized that he would measure his life in summers.

Because summers were always the times that meant the most to him.

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Please review, I do think that this came out ok. Thanks!

-Echo1317


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